


On Fratricide

by peristeronic



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fratricide, Poisoning, Regicide, but you guessed that, hints of how much I ship Claudius and Gertrude, more sympathy than Claudius really deserves, spoilers for the most famous play in the English language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 07:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10432182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peristeronic/pseuds/peristeronic
Summary: There’s a certain place in hell, he thought, for sleeping with your brother’s wife, and another place for killing him.





	

There’s a certain place in hell, he thought, for sleeping with your brother’s wife, and another place for killing him.

There was a moment, after he had made sure that Hamlet breathed no more, when Claudius thought that the sky would open up and lightning would strike the highest tower, and all the beasts of the field would run mad and all the birds in the sky would shriek, _Murder! Murder! Claudius has murdered King Hamlet!_ That was what should have happened. That was befitting for a king cruelly poisoned while no one was watching.

 _There’s such divinity doth hedge a king that treason can but peep to what it would,_ he would say later, when Laertes stood before him with a mob and a sword. But Claudius and Gertrude both knew better.

No loud voice cried out. He kept expecting that it would. The garden was quiet and still all around, and he almost dropped the vial of poison from trembling hands. He tucked it away and forced himself to turn his back on the corpse, forced himself not to run through the echoing halls of the castle. He went to Gertrude and told her that the deed was done and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

 _Should I be comforting her?_ he thought as she pulled him into her arms. The thought almost made him laugh, darkly. It was her husband he’d killed. As close as they were, he could feel her pulse racing, and she ran her hands through his hair distractedly.

For days afterwards it was hard to believe that they’d gotten away with it. Claudius’ heart hammered in his chest when Polonius wondered aloud, at length, about what sort of serpent could have struck and killed the king. He was no student of herpetology, he told the court multiple times, but he took some interest in the natural sciences and considering the time of year, time of day, and such, the probability was such... But no one believed—or no one said—that it was anything other than a serpent that killed Hamlet. No one accused their grief of being faked. Some of it was not. And so gradually Claudius and Gertrude learned to accept that they had succeeded. They were married before two months were up. Preparations for war continued, but Claudius sent diplomats to Norway’s court. Soon he had cause to believe war would be averted.

 _The wages of sin is death,_ a voice in his head hissed. But suddenly Claudius had been given everything he ever wanted. The woman he loved stood at his side and the crown of Denmark rested on his head. He would not give that up.

When the prince returned from university, Claudius realized that he had one more thing to wish for: that Prince Hamlet had not come so quickly. He was the ghost at the wedding, the specter clothed in black haunting Elsinore’s halls.

The prince was, in fact, the only damper on Claudius’s happiness. He wondered if Hamlet would be the one to suspect. He wondered if Hamlet would ever understand the motive. And in preference to wondering, he called for music and drink, and Gertrude pressed his hand under the table, and he drank deep until his head was light and then the king and queen were bid goodnight with ribald jokes, tripping over themselves, as eager as any newly-married pair.

He was going to hell, yes. But not yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Claudius's line to Laertes is from Act 4, Scene 5:
> 
> "Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person:  
> There's such divinity doth hedge a king,  
> That treason can but peep to what it would,  
> Acts little of his will."


End file.
